Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Consciousness trickled into Tate’s thoughts, bringing the ache of a black eye with it. He groaned and tried to ignore the throb as he forced himself to sit. He was the only one in bed. Sun shone through the window, striking his face and making him wince.
“Lys.” He called through the apartment.
“Living room. You need to see this.”
He couldn’t tell if she sounded stressed out, or excited, or something else. He stumbled to his feet, and pulled on his clothes as he walked. For a moment he considered leaving it all behind, but with his luck Jared would be out there, or something equally as awkward.
Lys sat on the couch, wearing one of Tate’s button-down shirts, and possibly not much else from the look of her bare legs tucked beneath her. She nodded at the TV. “Sara texted me. Said we made the morning news.”
It wasn’t Thompson’s affiliate, it was the competition. And as Tate watched the clip, he understood why. It was a shaky, low quality video of the brawl last night, complete with subtitles of every abusive, arrogant comment Bryce Jr. had made.
Tate sank onto the couch, blinking back his surprise. “How’d they get this? It’s not security footage.”
“Sara. She said she was sorry, but not really.”
“Wow.” He listened to the newsman explain Bryce Thompson Jr. had been arrested. Bryce Thompson Sr. had issued a public apology for the unknowingly false reports they’d done on the shelter, and had refused any other comment.
“Thompson is going to be pissed,” Tate muttered. “He won’t let this drop.” Not that it mattered.
Lys leaned her head against his shoulder. “We’ll deal with it.” Her words echoed his thoughts. “If there’s backlash, we’ll handle it together.”
* * *
Tate held out Lys’s chair for her, then slid it in as she sat, before taking his own seat across from her.
It was taking a large part of his focus to keep his pulse from galloping away.
He could be patient though. Only a few other diners were in the restaurant, and all sat several tables away.
He’d made sure their reservations tonight would be perfect.
Already discussed the meal with the chef, made sure they’d have the alcohol-free sparkling wine on hand for Lys.
The whole evening had to be just right. Though, given the company, he would have been okay with a crowded cafeteria off the interstate. Her black dress hugged her figure perfectly, flaring out at the waist, ending just above her knees. She was only seven weeks along, so she wasn’t showing yet.
He’d struggled with the news of the baby.
It had come as a huge shock, and he had to admit, he’d been terrified during the entire conversation with Lys.
But the longer he thought about it, the more it felt right.
He might not have enjoyed his childhood, and he had issues with his parents, but he’d seen other examples of amazing families all around him.
Their child was going to have the same thing—a good, caring home.
And he knew he didn’t want it any other way.
She draped her napkin over her knees, and sipped her drink, looking everywhere but him. That was odd. He beat back a creeping smidgen of doubt. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” She finally met his gaze.
His mind produced about five billion scenarios simultaneously, and he banished them all. No reason to jump to conclusions when she was sitting right there, about to finish her thought. “Sure. What’s up?”
She tapped her fingers on the stem of her glass. “Now that Bryce Jr.’s preliminary hearing is over, the shelter can settle up some of our outstanding paperwork.”
It hadn’t been easy for her to testify when they determined whether or not the teenager should stand trial—reiterating what was wrong with Grim when he’d been brought in—but thanks to her, and Sara’s video, the prosecution had a solid enough case to proceed.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “We need to place Grim. And I think I’ve found the perfect spot for him.”
She would have found Grim a new home before now, but because of how public the case had become, the shelter held onto him until everything was legally finalized.
Something sad tugged at Tate’s chest, masking the giddy nervousness that had been there seconds earlier.
He’d spent a lot of time playing with that dog during recovery.
“That’s fantastic.” His tone came out flatter than he intended.
“The thing is, I’d like to see him with you. You’ve got the yard, he already loves you, and, well…”
Tate couldn’t help his grin at the suggestion. He’d never even considered the idea. “I’d love to keep him. Are you sure? Am I allowed to do that?”
“Of course you are.” She laughed. “There’s a probationary period, but since you’ve spent half your free time with him, I’m not worried.”
He let his joy mingle with his growing anticipation.
He hadn’t been sure when he wanted to do this.
The meal was planned, the details were supposed to be spontaneous.
Now seemed like as good a time for a segue as any.
So why had his heart just paused? An unfamiliar nervousness fluttered through him “Speaking of having a lot of room…” He fumbled with a velvet box in his pocket, fingers suddenly feeling flimsy.
“I want you to know, I’m so happy about the baby.
And your pregnancy doesn’t change how I feel about you. ”
She furrowed her brow, and tilted her head. “I know.”
He finally grasped the box, and knelt next to her. “We’ve only been dating for a few months, but you’ve been my world for a long time. My best friend, my confidant, my everything. Alyssia Tippins, will you marry me?” He opened the box, to expose a ring with a recessed band of diamonds.
She gasped, and nodded. “Yes, and a million times over, yes.”
He shouldn’t have been nervous, of course she’d agree, but the reassurance didn’t stop relief and joy from filling him.
He slipped the ring onto her finger, stood, and brushed his lips over hers.
She hooked her fingers at the back of his neck, and held him close for several more seconds, deepening the kiss.
He couldn’t think of a better future. Things would only get better from here on out.